


Like You Want

by AwCoffeeNo



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Frustration, Top Rick, but also tooth-rottingly sweet, is this? domestic bliss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-02 11:17:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15795396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwCoffeeNo/pseuds/AwCoffeeNo
Summary: Negan finally gets Rick in bed. It's... a little different than what he was expecting. Companion piece/bonus scene fromSixes Hang in the Door.





	Like You Want

Negan would have been happy like this forever, he tells himself. Happy with Rick’s chaste, gentle touches, and sharing a bed, and Rick splitting weeks between here and Alexandria like the child of a messy divorce. 

He knows, on some level, he wants more. That’s always been his fatal flaw: wanting more, when he already has all he deserves, and well beyond it. But he ain’t gonna admit that shit, not even to himself, let alone to Rick. 

Instead, he pours his heart and soul into other things. 

He tries to cook it all better: he makes spaghetti sauce and pasta from scratch, he roasts squash and zucchini. He bakes fucking pies and cakes and fresh bread, scouring the surrounding area for cookbooks and baking flour and yeast until he’s sending Rick back to Alexandria with baked goods along with produce every week. 

He tries to take it all out on the ever-expanding gardens, now flourishing both near Lucille’s grave, and by Rick’s home in Alexandria. In the gardens he and Rick are digging around his house, he plants herbs for every imaginable ailment: lavender and St. John’s wort, milk thistle and nettles, sage and echinacea, and everything else he can get his hands on. He grows and cuts so many fucking flowers for Rick’s house he runs out of vases and oversized Mason jars to put them in. 

_Goddamn it_ , he is a grown man. 

He is a grown man with two good hands, and he will bite his tongue and keep his distance and jerk off in the shower and behave himself if it kills him. 

And, well, if Rick sees Negan’s morning wood a few more times that seems strictly necessary when he’s sleeping in Negan’s bed, and Negan seems to take awfully long showers, well, they’re both grown-ups here, right? 

Rick is _grieving_ , and Negan’s gonna respect that if his balls fucking explode for the effort. 

\--

The first time it happens, the first time Rick _kisses him_ , they’re standing in the kitchen, about to say goodbye for the week. The harvest of green beans and zucchini Negan’s forcing on a protesting Rick is already sitting out on the counter (“No one knows what to do with this much zucchini, Negan,” Rick said last week, but the stuff just kept growing.) 

Their goodbyes are always fast and casual. 

This is completely forced, on Negan’s part: even after weeks of Rick's recurring visits, he’s always terrified to see Rick go, and is sure that if he lets himself cling for even a minute, Rick will never get out the door. So he always coughs up a few vague things, and helps Rick load up his car, and says, _see you next week, sexy_ and sends Rick on his merry way like it’s nothing. 

He’s never been entirely sure if their routine is forced, on Rick’s part. Maybe it _is_ that easy for Alexandria's fearless leader. 

But today, Rick comes up to him and pops up onto his toes. Puts a hand on his face and pulls him down and kisses him, all soft and casual like they’ve done it hundreds of times before. 

Negan stays completely, completely still while it happens. Just lets Rick press his lips against his. 

“You can move, you know,” Rick says, laughing into Negan’s mouth. “You’re not gonna scare me away.” 

\-- 

He must have imagined it dozens of times -- hell, hundreds of times, before it actually happens. 

He never imagined it right, exactly. In his various _filthy_ fantasies about this particular situation, he’s generally got Rick under him, blushing like a fucking fresh virgin from his forehead all the way down to his balls while Negan makes rough, amazing, mind-blowing love to him until the other man can’t string even two words together. 

In retrospect, this was pretty cocky thinking for a man who’s been driven to jerking it on the regular from all manner of incredibly platonic, incredibly innocent physical contact over the past few weeks. 

Yeah. Really, really cocky. 

\--

They wake up to the sound of thunder, one morning, rumbling far away, and the sound of rain on the windows. 

Rick rolls over, and buries his face into Negan’s neck. “Hear that? We ain't going anywhere today. Don’t get up. Stay here.” 

Rick’s lips are warm and gentle as he plants kisses along the side of Negan’s neck. “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else, baby,” Negan says, voice still thick with sleep. “I think I’m in god-damn heaven.”

Rick chuckles. “Don’t be cheesy,” he chastises, and moves up to Negan’s lips. 

It’s gentle. It’s all gentle, it’s always gentle. Rick kisses on his shoulders. Along his collarbones. Across the pulse-point of his neck. On his lips, again and again and again.

Normally, it stops there. Gentle, and practically platonic.

This time it doesn’t. Rick’s kisses get progressively more sloppy and open-mouthed with each pass, until he’s halfway on top of Negan, and sucking on Negan’s lips until he thinks they might bruise. 

Rick’s never been like this with him before, not really, and Negan is fucking melting under the attention. 

He lets it go on too long. Lets himself kiss Rick back, desperate and needy, fingers clutching at every inch of Rick he can find. Lets himself give in to the desire to physically hold onto Rick like he could slip away at any second. He’d thought that this feeling might go away, now that they're arguably together, or at least be dampened with time and proximity. It hasn’t. It's an itch he can't seem to abate, no matter how hard he holds on.

Also in things proximity has done nothing to dampen: he wants Rick. He wants Rick fuckin’ bad. 

He’s been half-hard since just about since the instant he woke up this morning to Rick’s lips, moving up his neck. Now, with Rick pressed up against his side, tongue fucking buried in his mouth, hands under his shirt, all noises of lazy pleasure? His balls are about fucking ready to explode. 

Between that, and the past few weeks of pent-up frustration, it’s all he can do not to just fucking come in his pants, then and there. 

But, again. Negan is a _goddamn adult_ , and he is more than capable of controlling himself, as he manages to remind himself through the heady pleasure of it all. He puts a hand on Rick’s face and pushes him back, gently. “Rick, baby,” he groans, “I am enjoying this at _least_ as much as you are, but I’m gonna… I’m gonna need a minute, okay?” 

There’s no way Rick can’t feel exactly how hard he is, how hard he’s _been_. Not with the way they’re pressed up against each other like. 

Negan’s pretty sure _he’s_ the one blushing when Rick pulls back, and he braces himself for another cold shower. 

But instead of rolling onto his back and away like Negan expects, Rick's sliding one hand between Negan’s legs to palm Negan’s erection through his sweatpants. “Let me take care of you, sweetheart,” he says, and, yeah, Negan’s fucking blushing, he _knows_ his whole body's turning some shade of pink. 

Fuck, he’s so hard. Rick’s hand feels so good. He can’t help the moan that escapes his lips before he manages to get any words out. “Rick, I can... I can take care of it, you don’t have to, not if --” 

He loses the conclusion of that sentence to another humiliating noise of pleasure as Rick’s hand slips down his pants. “Shut up, Negan,” Rick says, almost chipper. “Shut up, and stop squirmin’ like you ain’t ever done this before.” 

And Negan does try. He tries his damndest. 

It’s not like Rick’s really giving him much choice in the matter, though, a few minutes later. As soon as Negan’s pants are around his knees, Rick’s putting his hands on Negan’s hips and physically holding him still while he sucks him off.

It’s a good thing, too. As soon as Rick bends down, and slips Negan’s cock into that stupid pink mouth of his, Negan can’t hold still for the life of him, can’t keep quiet for the life of him, running his mouth increasingly incoherently through the process, more profanity than actual words. “ _Fuck_ , Rick, fuck me, _god_ , baby, you’re so fucking _good_ , how did you ever learn to do this shit, oh, Jesus, _fuck me_ , Rick --” 

Rick chuckles at that, lifting his mouth off of Negan’s dick long enough to say, “I didn’t live in a _cave_ before this all happened, Negan, God.” 

As he speaks, he’s moving Negan’s cock into his hand. Starting to stroke him slowly in one hand. 

“Turn around.” 

Negan does, eagerly. Braces his hands on the headboard. 

A moment later, Rick’s head dips down between his legs. Firm hands are on his hips. 

Hardly believing that this is happening, Negan's spreading his legs. The next instant: Rick’s tongue, hot and slick, teasing over his opening as Rick’s hand comes up to jerk him off at the same time. Rick’s tongue, pressing into him, even as his hand keeps moving, hard and fast. 

Negan’s dizzy with it all, fucking dripping all over himself, all over Rick’s hand. Shit’s ridiculous, but he’s too full of pent-up frustration to be all that embarrassed that it took Rick all of five minutes to completely undo him like this. 

It’s too fucking much. 

“Fuck, Rick, _fuck_ , you’re gonna have to -- baby, slow down, you’re gonna make me… oh, _fuck_ \-- ” 

Rick seems to have already anticipated this particular development, because the next moment, his hand is squeezing at the base of Negan’s cock, forcing yet another humiliatingly needy noise out of Negan’s mouth as his hips jerk and shudder uselessly. “ _Fuck!_ Jesus! Rick, you fucking tease, I need --” 

“I know what you need, baby. Just stay still and let me give it to you.” 

Then Rick’s getting up, and for a second, Negan thinks in an irrational, dizzy bout of horny paranoia that Rick’s about to leave him there, blue-balled and rock hard like a huge idiot. But he’s just going to get lube from his bedside stand, spreading it across his fingers. 

“On your back, sweetheart. Want to see you.”

Negan can’t move fast enough. 

And then Rick’s spreading Negan’s legs and lifting them up around his shoulders, and gently fingering him open with his lube-slick fingers, and Negan is _gone_. Completely fucking gone, as Rick eases his fingers into him, slow and infuriatingly gentle. He slides in one finger up to his knuckle, and then adds a second finger, slowly. All while this is progressing, he’s asking him _how do you feel_ , _how does that feel_ , _is this okay, is it good, baby?_ with the utmost sincerity. Like Negan’s capable of answering with anything but his own heaving breath and fragmented encouragements, struggling not to buck his hips and fuck himself against Rick’s fingers, one arm thrown over his eyes to hide his face. 

_Encouragements_. Not the same thing as begging. Super, duper not the same thing. 

Rick’s fingers find his prostate, and Negan’s seeing fucking stars, Negan’s sure those noises aren’t coming out of his mouth. “Right there, huh, sweetheart?” Rick’s saying, grinning like he doesn’t have a care in the damn world as he’s fingering Negan in just the right spot, merciless, over and over, forcing gasps of pleasure from the other man with each pass. 

Negan thinks of all his dozens of dirty fantasies. In all of them, at this point, Rick would be the one gasping and sobbing for pleasure. He buries his face deeper in his arms, face burning, trying to muffle the needy sounds coming out of his mouth. 

It’s no good. Rick pulls his arms away, says “ _Look_ at what I’m doing to you, Negan, look at me, baby, c’mon.”

Negan does. Rick looks so beautiful bent over him, eyes electric blue and glittering, his face wrapped in concentration and flush with the activity. 

He meets Negan’s eyes. “Look at you,” Rick breathes, and Negan’s sure he looks absolutely wrecked, but all he hears in Rick’s voice is reverence. “All this, for me.” 

Upon meeting Rick’s eyes, the next thing that comes out of his mouth is begging “ _Please_ , Rick. Please, Jesus _Christ_ , are you happy yet? I need you, I need you so fucking bad --” 

If anything, begging seems to egg Rick on: “I bet you could come, just like this,” he says softly, arching his fingers against Negan’s prostate and making him moan again. “Just from my fingers in you. Couldn’t you? Just like this. Wouldn’t even have to put my dick in you.” As he speaks, he bending down and sucking at Negan’s thighs, hard enough that it hurts, hard enough that Negan knows he’ll see bruises tomorrow morning. "God, I bet I could get you to come, just talking to you right now." 

It ain't hyperbole. Negan's _sure_ Rick could. Lucky for him, the next thing Rick breaths is “Is that what you want? Me, putting my dick in you?”

“Yes, Rick, yes, _please_ , hurry the fuck up and fuck me,” Negan whines, all shame completely gone.

Rick obviously doesn’t have to be told twice.

Turns out, Rick's about as wound-up as he is. It doesn't take long. 

  
\--

After it’s over, and Negan’s lying there, completely spent, Rick kisses him and kisses him, stealing little chaste pecks on odd parts of his body: his wrists, his elbows, whatever he can get his hands on. “I love you,” he says softly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

The backs of Negan’s calves: _I love you_. 

Behind his ears: _I love you_. 

The tip of his nose: _I love you_. 

It’s silly, really, but Rick speaks with all the reverence of a prayer.

**Author's Note:**

> /blushes for ten whole years/
> 
> did i bitch out a little at the very end there? yes i did, but at least i got this written and posted


End file.
